


Come What May

by melanie1982



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Moulin Rouge! (2001)
Genre: F/M, Mash-up, Resurrection, SatineWasAlreadyPaleEnough, Undead, immortal beauty, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 15:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16621847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanie1982/pseuds/melanie1982
Summary: Satine had always been a pale beauty, a carefully-cultivated rose in Sigler's garden of delights - but even the prettiest rose wilts in due time.Tuberculosis had claimed her life, cutting short her dreams of being an actress, of living happily ever after with Christian, of seeing the world..Until a stranger pierced the darkness of the grave, offering her two out of three.





	1. Chapter 1

Paris, 1901, night. Within a paupers' graveyard, two shovels can be heard overturning clods of earth, occasionally softly knocking into one another. 

"For fuck's sake, hurry up, Dru! It's already almost dawn!"

Spike cursed himself for his weakness. Dru was never going to let him live this one down, his pathetic admiration of a mortal, now freshly dead. He couldn't explain it, but there was something about the woman, some spark, which he desperately hoped to fan into life once more. He should've arranged a rendezvous *before* she had breathed her last, but, well, he wasn't exactly an expert in the course of human diseases, was he? Most of the humans he interacted with died of less-than-natural causes, you know?

Then again, his own mother had been ill with same malady, so perhaps he should've known, after all.

"It's not my job, Spike! You *know* I don't like getting my hands dirty! All this effort for some trumped-up painted whore; I hope she's grateful.."

Spike had needed a change of scene after killing the Chinese Slayer months earlier. Paris had beckoned to the romantic in him, and with its reputation as 'The City of Lights,' well, it had appealed to the vampire in him, too. So much to see and do, even at this hour, all without that pesky sunlight spoiling his fun.

Drusilla had continued to complain, until, exasperated, Spike had snatched the spade from her hand. "You didn't mind getting your hands, or various other parts of yourself, 'dirty' when it came to our old friend Angelus," he growled, though to any mortal passerby, the sound would've registered as that of an animal, if, indeed, they heard anything at all.

Drusilla's protruding lower lip was visible in profile, even in this light. "Awww, is my precious Spike still sore over that little indiscretion? At least Angelus didn't drag me to some poncy over-done house of whores to watch mutton dressed as lamb do the can-can night after night."

In truth, Spike wasn't sure what the woman's reaction would be to his 'gift,' or even the nature of his feelings towards her. She was beautiful, true; but so had many others been, and Spike hadn't moved heaven and earth - well, in this case, just earth, and lots of it - to sire them. 

"'Shoulda burned this one, they should've," Dru muttered. "Filthy, sentimental humans, letting the ones they claim to love rot in the ground, worms picking their bones clean. And the waste of the clothes and jewels! At least with burning, there's some - "

Spike, working double time, had managed at last to hit the brittle wood of the home-made coffin. The fact that Satine's.. employer, or perhaps her friends and even a few loyal patrons, had cobbled together enough for that, rather than a simple burial shroud, touched him.

"At bloody last! Now pry off the lid, do your magic, and let's get the fuck out of here!," Drusilla hissed.

He had always admired Satine from afar, afraid to approach lest he repulse her, but now, when he had but a thin piece of wood separating him from the woman, Spike found himself suddenly shy.

Dru rolled her eyes. "I'm about to toss her on the dung-heap and climb into that box myself. Come ON!"

Spike steadied himself, brushing away the last of the dirt with reverence. The lid was nailed shut, whether to keep her in, or grave-robbers and pervs out, Spike wasn't sure, but he made quick work of it.

As fading moonlight spilled down upon her face, Spike felt a rush of emotion too dangerous to name. At this very moment, her love, Christian, was drowning his sorrows, ensconced in the arms of Satine's old friends. Spike felt as though he was trespassing on something sacred, but the image of Angelus taking possession of Dru's lithe form spurred him to quash that pesky little flare-up of morality. Satine no longer belonged to the world of the living; tonight, she would cross a bridge, not from death to life, but from death to immortality.

"Forgive me, love," Spike whispered into the shell of her ear. She looked so serene, the cares of her life wiped from her face by artful cosmetics and loving hands. Her cheeks, always pale, seemed to glow in the moonbeams; her rose-bud lips, to await the kiss of a dark prince; her eyes to - 

"SPIKE! I swear, on everything that is unholy, if you don't - "

Spike wasn't even entirely sure that the ancient lore would hold true. Mortals had been spinning tales about his kind for eons, and they got it wrong more often than not. The most commonly spread belief was that, in order to turn a corpse into a vampire, one had to appeal to whatever they had loved most in life. For Satine, Spike suspected, that would involve song.

Thinking on his feet, Spike began to serenade the lifeless beauty.

"Little bird, sparkling diamond of my eye 

Life was hard, and the hand of death was cruel. 

Twist of fate, came too late; I watched you die, 

But now, my love, my blood shall be your fuel. 

Here beneath the stars, dear, 

No more to see the sun, 

Awaken to the world and set things right. 

Your dreams are not so far, dear, 

You'll chase down every one, 

The stage shall be your realm of truth and light. 

Open your eyes, love, 

And be surprised, love, 

Little bird, please awaken to the night." 

Spike leaned in, finding where her pulse would once have fluttered and stalled in her neck, willing her to live.. or something like it. His fangs pierced the flesh, the sound not unlike puncturing a firm peach. Dead blood was normally so bitter, almost chalky, like stale tobacco or burnt coffee grounds, but Satine - Satine tasted of lavender, like the lavender biscuits Anne had made him as a boy. As he drew, there were notes of cinnamon streaking the lavender, followed by a hint of cream. If she did not rise, at least his efforts would not have been totally in vain.

Now for the trickier part. Spike noted, with some relief, that her lips did not appear to be stitched or pinned shut, not like some who were buried in the ways of the old-country superstitions. He would be loathe to mar such a perfect set of pillows by tearing them open. With a careful hand, Spike cradled Satine's jaw within his grip, pressing upon the hinges and working it with pulses of pressure, coaxing open her mouth. The scent of illness escaped like a sigh, though Spike need not fear its cloying caress. No illness would ever touch him.

"Death, where is thy sting? Grave, where is thy victory?," quoth Spike, before filling his mouth with his own wrist, making a generous gash for Satine. It poured into her mouth like wine as her head rested upon his free arm, and Spike waited, the seconds seeming interminably long, to see if she would rouse.

After several moments, Spike realized that Dru was uncharacteristically silent. Half-hoping she had left, Spike hazarded a backwards glance. Drusilla was staring at the corpse, with something akin to sadness or pity etched on her timeless features.

"Pretty little thing, Spikey." The voice was too soft, too human for her, and Drusilla amended her tone. "I mean, she'd make a handsome pet."

Spike was about to give up hope, to slide the lid back into place and hurriedly shove the dirt back atop her (more than Dru would want him to do, but he felt he owed Satine and her mournful comrades at least that much dignity), when Satine's body arched upwards, animus returning to her in a strangled gasp. When she opened her eyes, blinking to clear her vision, Spike affected what he hoped amounted to a friendly smile.

"I.. What's happened? Where is Christian?"

"Christian? Ahh. Yesss.. We can talk about that in a little while. First things first, we need to get you out of this.. thing, and into more amenable accommodations."

Satine looked up at Spike in equal parts wonder and confusion. "Are you.. a doctor?" She shook her head, amazed at the weight of it, of the movement of her hair; everything felt so strange. "No.. I remember you now. I saw you in the crowd some nights, at the Moulin Rouge."

Satine couldn't understand why she felt so much better, better than she had in years - or possibly ever. The feeling was like fire, like the glow of absinthe; was that why she felt so dizzy and euphoric?

"Come along, Satine. We'll have a nice long chat back at my place."

Satine, looking at the agog form of Drusilla, frowned. "I don't do.. um.. That is to say, I'm not a working girl any longer, but even if I was, I wouldn't 'work' for.. a couple.."

"No worries about that on my account, love," Dru spat, barely concealing the ice in her voice. 

"I really must insist that we leave. NOW," Spike said, trying not to alarm Satine.

"And then you'll take me to Christian?," Satine asked, and the hopeful, loving way she spoke that name would've broken his heart - if, he'd, you know..

"You've been very ill, my dear, and, before anything else, you must rest."

Satine saw that the sky was beginning to grow light, and couldn't fathom why that should terrify her so. "Yes. Yes, I agree. Let's not stay here." The coffin groaned in protest at the loss of its cargo, but Satine was too focused on getting away from this place, away from the coming sun. She had always taken care to keep her skin pale, but why should she be so afraid?

Drusilla and Spike led Satine away, each of them offering her an arm.

"You're safe now," Drusilla cooed, suddenly energized at the thought of having a new progeny to mentally torment.

"Safe.. Yes."

Spike hated himself, wondering whether he'd just made a terrible, terrible mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satine begins to learn the truth

Spike had kept the lights low in the chamber, the thick layers of drapes nailed to the walls surrounding the windows keeping out all traces of sunlight. Satine had tired easily, though it was more shock than any physical cause.

Drusilla had balked at the suggestion of sharing a sleeping space with the newcomer, though she didn't exactly relish the thought of Satine squeezing in with Spike, either. Reluctantly, Dru acquiesced to the latter, slamming her trunk's lid shut like a defiant toddler.

"This is where you live?," Satine asked.

Spike sighed. Dru had left him to do the bulk of the work, first physically, now emotionally. "It's where I stay, for the time being. Listen, Satine.. Do you understand what's happened?"

"I.. I must've been dreaming. I dreamt that I was dying.. But that's not right, is it? I mean, I can't possibly be.."

Satine was looking around the room, noticing the mirror, covered by a black cloth. Spike encircled her wrist with his tapered fingers, stopping her from approaching it.

"I'm sorry, love. You weren't dreaming."

She faced him, her eyes sliding down to the place where he held her in his grip. "Is this hell? Am I to be punished?"

From within the trunk, there came a dark, feminine snicker. Spike bit his tongue.

"Not punished, Satine. No punishment for you. You see, I saw something.. special about you, something different. Something worth saving."

Something worth saving? "Christian.. You, you must take me to him. He thinks I'm dead. But I'm not dead."

Spike released her wrist, hoping she wasn't about to bolt. He really didn't feel like chasing and subduing her, and he really, REALLY didn't feel like killing her.

"Can't go out in the sun, love. You'll be destroyed."

She laughed, but it was cold and mocking, most of the warmth of her life conspicuous by its absence.

"If I'm dead, how can I die again? If I'm ill, then I lose nothing by going. Are you going to be like the Duke, ordering me about, keeping me prisoner? Are you going to force yourself on me?"

Spike looked horrified. "No. You are not a prisoner, Satine, nor would I abuse you. Please, let me explain it all to you - after we rest."

She noted the bed, how neatly made it appeared, as though unused. "Is this some sick fantasy of yours? Kidnapping a girl, telling her she's - she's - not alive, but not dead?"

Spike shuffled over to his own trunk, opening the lid. "Come on, love. It'll do you good to rest."

"You sleep where you like, but there's a perfectly good bed here. Why would you - why - ohh, God, Christian!.."

Satine crumpled to the floor, in tears. The sobs would break a mortal's heart, but worse, they would attract attention. Spike went to her, dropping to his knees to embrace her.

"There, there, love. 'S alright. You'll see. You'll see."

"What have I become? I'm so sorry, Christian. I'm so.."

Drusilla listened in the darkness, gloating. Stupid whore, crying over her miserable life and her pathetic lover. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Spike picked up Satine as though she were made of gossamer, carrying her, still weeping, to the trunk. He settled her in first, then shaped himself around her in the awkward space she left before closing the lid. Satine wept as though she would never cease, although eventually, blessedly, unconsciosness claimed her. It was only then that Spike allowed himself to slip into that space where mortals and immortals alike may dream.


	3. Chapter 3

Upon waking, Satine was considerably more clear-headed, though that wasn't necessarily going to help her understand her fate.

She sat between Spike and Dru, each of them within grabbing distance should she try to bolt. Satine's face had become a mask, defiantly refusing to show her mentors any hint of what she truly felt.

"I will never be ill again, never die of old age, never age at all.."

Spike let it be; it was near enough to the truth.

"I must.. feed on the blood of living creatures, human or animal."

Dru fought the urge to extoll upon the superior virtues of the latter.

"I must never be in daylight, nor touch a cross or a Bible or any holy thing.."

Dru's nose wrinkled in distaste.

"..and I can't be near Christian ever again."

Spike had to try to balance the bad news with good, to show Satine that an entirely new world of possibilities was hers to explore.

"You can still be an actress, Satine. They work at night, and people expect them to be a bit.. odd. If you travel enough, no one will notice that you aren't aging. And your memory will be ten times what it was in life, so you'll memorize entire scripts without any trouble at all!"

She looked at him then, and the disdain there chilled him to the bone. "And are you to be my new Sigler? Are you to profit from my efforts, to pimp me out to theaters and punters, Spike?"

Dru sniffed. "I could do that part, if you'd rather," she said, picking at her nail. 

Satine seemed to consider it all, looking now towards the window where the moonlight streamed in. "Why cover the mirrors? Are you in mourning for me?"

"You.. That is, *we*.. cast no reflection. But you won't need to; you'll always be beautiful, Satine, effortlessly. Always."

She moved towards that light, that pale light which would never be enough, but which would have to suffice nonetheless. "And what of Christian? I've had my rest. Now, take me to him. He loves me; he will understand - "

Dru looked down at the floor, scuffing at an imaginary spot with her heeled boot. Spike sighed.

"You can't see him again. If anyone recognizes you, they'll go mad, probably try to kill you. Humans think they've evolved, but they're primitive, easily panicked, irrational - "

"And they might catch on to who - or what - you are. What ARE we, Spike?"

He felt the word in his mouth, and it nearly choked him. "Vampires."

She nodded. "And this ability you used to make me like you.. It's available to anyone of our kind?"

Fuck. Fucking shit-balls, no. "I know what you're thinking, love. It isn't that simple. I wasn't even sure it would work with you; I was so afraid that you wouldn't rise.."

"So it's easier to change the living, then? It's easier to make them like us. Like me."

Spike began to pace, and then to pack. "We have to get you out of Paris, love, before you do anything stupid."

"I won't leave without him." The finality of her words stopped Spike cold.

"You died in his arms, Satine; it's all over Paris. That's how I knew I'd left it too late. That is to say, I knew I had to find you before you'd been buried for too long.." He faltered, tried again. "You promised to love him until you died, and you've kept that promise. You DID die, Satine. You owe him nothing."

"I promised to love him til the end of time," Satine said, more to the window than to anyone else. "Time is still going, isn't it? Don't you think he'd want to know that I'm.. here? Wouldn't you want to know, if you were alive, and your love had died?"

Spike couldn't force the lie from his lips.

"You're wrong, Spike. I owe you nothing; but I owe Christian everything. Before him, I *was* dead, and he sang me to life. He gave me his song. He changed my world. Now you - both of you - you want to take that away from me, and from him. I won't have it."

Dru looked intrigued, though it masked her nervousness. "What's your plan then, poppet? If you go to him, he'll think he's gone insane, or he'll die of shock."

"I'm not going to him," she sighed.

Spike relaxed a fraction, then caught the open-ended tone of her statement.

"Because you're going to go to him for me."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All you need is love.. and insanity

It was madness, but Spike was in a quandry.

If he let Satine go in search of her lover, it would mean her destruction, and probably his and Dru's as well.

If he went to find Christian, or made a show of doing so, perhaps it would appease the fiery one. He could concoct a tale of Christian refusing to go with him, or of being unable to find him at all, or..

But Satine was sharper than that. She knew men all too well, and could spot a lie a mile off. 

She pled her case until she was hoarse, promising that Christian would come to her, assuring Spike that, as the two of them were nameless patrons of the Moulin Rouge, nobody would link them to her.. Dru went out in search of a good feed, leaving Spike, hungry and irritated, to endure Satine's performance.

It wasn't a performance, though. She meant it. The love she had felt for Christian had somehow survived death, and had not been displaced by the evil within her resurrected form. Spike had made a gross miscalculation, underestimating her. The woman's drive was no longer for the fame of the stage, but for a cozy life of anonymous domestic bliss with Christian. The sparkling diamond would rather be the shadow of her penniless writer beau, losing herself in him. Spike couldn't fathom it. 

Satine only stopped talking as the hunger began to gnaw at her, the sensation like rats tugging at her insides. "Is this.. Is this what you told me about? This awful, burning emptiness?"

Spike affirmed it.

She looked horrified. "Is it true that the only thing which will stop this suffering is to.. to.. drink blood?"

"Yes, Satine. You won't starve to death in the traditional sense, but you would eventually go mad, becoming more beast than vampire."

She leaned her head against the cool glass of the window, noticing the absence of even a dim reflection to obscure her view. The lights were low enough in the room that anyone passing by in the street below would not recognize her, even if they glanced directly at her.

"Christian would feed me. He would die for me, even kill for me. I know it." Satine seemed to whispering to herself, almost going into a reverie.

"I could go out, find you something to nibble on," Spike offered, trying for levity. 

She shook her head no, crimson waves swaying with the movement. "No. I will wait."

Wait for what? 

Satine turned to stare at Spike. He had always considered himself fairly tall, but Satine seemed to tower over him, her eyes more intense now than they had ever been in life. That brilliant blue, tinged with the hardness of diamonds and the cold of ice.

"You must go to him for me, Spike. If I am to exist in this way, I must have him with me. I can't face another day without him, let alone an eternity. If you explain to him, or - or if I send a note with you, to prove I'm here, and to make him understand.."

Spike thought of Anne, of how he had believed he was saving her from death and keeping her near him as an immortal companion. He thought, too, of how she had grown contemptuous of him, and of the existence he had forced upon her. Spike could never settle in his own mind whether he had destroyed his mother, or whether she had destroyed herself. Dru claimed the latter, but Spike wasn't so sure.

"You aren't going to let this go, are you? At this very moment, Dru is obtaining train tickets for the three of us. I will procure a traveling trunk for you, and we will set out for Germany tomorrow evening."

"So soon? I can't.. Then we haven't much time."

Satine began to pace again. Why had she called Christian back to her, knowing she was dying? Had she let him go, Christian might have gotten far enough away from her that her death would not have touched him. The man could have lived out his days feeling anger for her, or charitable pity, but not heart-rending grief. Why had she been so selfish?

"I will never let this go. I will learn about what I have become; surely there are others. I mean, you had a maker, and she had a maker, so there must be.. Yes. I will find them, and I will become stronger and faster, smarter and colder, until I am able to look for him myself. I know I can go out in the night; you did it, so why shouldn't I? Or, if you won't help me, why shouldn't I just destroy myself, or tell some excitable mob that you are blood-sucking creatures from hell and let them spare me the trouble? Can we burn?"

She began to move towards one of the lanterns, and Spike blocked her path. "Yes, we burn. Sunlight, and fire."

The blue was gone from her eyes as surely as the sun dips behind dark clouds. "What else? How else can we be destroyed?"

Spike went over the basics, information she could easily glean from mortal sources, though it would be mixed in with rubbish and superstition.

"How did you make me? How did I become what I now am?"

Dru opened the door, Satine noticing that the woman's eyes were wild. 

"I'm afraid it's too late," Dru said, her voice more bitter than sympathetic.

Behind her, Satine heard the crack of thunder, but did not startle. "What do you mean, 'too late'? What's happened?"

Dru looked at Spike, then at Satine, before finally focusing on the floor. "He's dead."


	5. Chapter 5

"No." Satine said it with absolute conviction. "He can't be. I saw him two days ago; he was in good health."

Dru closed the door behind her, but did not move further into the room. "I know death, love, and the man is dead."

Spike shot her a scowl; she could have at least an ounce of compassion, couldn't she? 

"You're lying to me. Spike said you went out to feed and to get us train tickets. Unless you killed him." She looked at Spike, her eyes demanding an answer.

"Not him, love. Dru didn't touch him." He would've smelled it on her.

Dru let out a snort. "I didn't have to. The lovesick fool was just pulled out of the Seine, whether he went in willingly or not. Either way, dead is dead. Shall I spell it out? D - E - A - D."

Satine pulled at her hair, removing a large chunk. "NO! No no no no no!"

Spike grabbed ahold of Satine bodily, pinning her hands to her sides. "Dru, who found him? Where is he now?"

"On his way to the paupers' plot, to be interred by his lover's side," Dru said sweetly.

Satine had buried her face in Spike's shoulder, though the height difference made it awkward. "Why have you made me into this monster? What have you done? I could be with him now, if you'd only left me dead."

Dru opened her mouth to point out that that had been very much her preferred course of action, but one glare from Spike soon snapped it shut again.

Spike knew Satine was going to fight fang and nail to get to the graveyard. He knew Dru wasn't lying. He also knew that Satine was going to need to close this chapter of her life if there was to be any hope of a future.

"Come on."

Satine, having begged and argued to be allowed out since the moment the sun had set, was suddenly afraid of the prospect of freedom.

Spike draped her in a hooded cloak, very old-fashioned, but it would serve to cover her face and her distinctive red mane. The fact that it would hide her shapely form would also help her garner less notice.

"You're stark-raving loony, both of you," Dru sighed, shaking her head. As the two headed out the door, Dru expected Spike would be back soon - probably alone. Would the stupid whore kill herself by weeping all night over his grave, ready to become dust in the dawn? 

Once she was alone, Dru became agitated. For all of their ups and downs, Spike was her only constant champion, and whatever befell him, she did not want to be left behind.

"My god, this love foolishness must be catching," she muttered, cloaking herself and following their scent trail into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

The cloaks did not look so out of place now, as it began to rain. Satine told herself that the angels were weeping for Christian. She noted that no such heavenly outpouring had marked the occasion of her demise, but then, whores and other waste died every day. Christian was something rare, something special.

Upon reaching the graveyard, Satine noticed that her own pit had been carefully filled in once more. She turned to Spike, an unspoken question in her eyes, and he nodded slightly; he did not expect gratitude, and none was expressed.

A fresh yet muddy hole had opened up in the earth beside her burial mound, and Satine wanted to throw herself into it, to open her body like the grave and take Christian into herself.

"Are you going to stand there gawking, or are you going to pick a sensible hiding spot?," Dru asked from behind the pair.

Satine reluctantly acquiesced to waiting behind a small cluster of trees. 

"What happens if they don't come tonight? What if they wait for daybreak - "

"Then me and Spike are out of here, and you're on your own - unless you're smart enough to want to save yourself."

Satine truly wasn't sure what she would choose. Part of her still hoped that Dru was wrong, that it wasn't Christian - but who else would be buried beside her? 

Moments later, a small procession of people in capes and dark hats began to file into the graveyard. Satine could hear sobs, recognizing some of the girls from the Moulin Rouge. The men were silent, except for Toulouse, whose rambling utterings of grief were indecipherable. Spike and Dru had blended almost seamlessly into the shadows, and Satine tried to emulate them. She needed to learn these skills if she was going to go on - and if she was going to teach them to Christian. Even in the darkness, the outline of a crude coffin was visible to Satine's vampire sight.

The procession stopped at the lip of the grave, and a shudder went through Satine as she imagined having to take human life in order to sustain her immortal body. The earth was a bottomless stomach; the graves, hungry waiting mouths. How many lives would she feed from? How many pits would she fill?

"Friends.." 

Satine felt her body go rigid. It was Sigler! Toulouse had tried to work up the courage to deliver a eulogy, but was too overcome with emotion. Sigler, ever the showman, had stepped in. Bless him for that, Satine thought; if he does this well, I can almost forgive him for all his greed and depravity, the way he used us all..

"We only knew Christian for a brief, shining moment, but I think it fair to say that his creativity and spirit touched us all."

Toulouse blew his nose into a handkerchief with a honk.

"His first love was the written word, but his greater love, his truest love, was our departed friend, Satine."

Satine wondered idly what the others had said about her over her grave just days earlier, whether Spike had listened in -

"I know that Satine died in the hope that Christian would live on. The poor lad stayed up for a day and a half, writing their story, committing it to paper for all the world, for all time."

Had he worked himself to death? Was it possible that it was an accident which had claimed him?

"We have his words. We have his memory. And now, friends, we have his body, which we commit to the earth, in dignity."

As one, the men began to lower the coffin into the ground. Satine hated the thought of Christian going into the mud, of being covered up with earth, with no headstone, nothing to mark his final resting place -

"Godspeed, Christian. Thank you for your devotion to beauty, truth, and love."

The whole affair had lasted mere minutes, though it felt like hours, having to remain so still and silent. Apparently the group planned to leave the grave unsealed until the morning, and the trio watched until the procession had faded into the distance. Once the coast was clear, the rain gave Satine a short reprieve.

"Now or never, love," Spike murmured.

"You aren't - but - aren't you going to help me?"

"He was *your* lover. I haven't got it in me yet, not after rousing you. Besides.." Spike thought a moment. "It may not work."

"It HAS to work," Satine hissed. "Tell me how it is done."

"You have to appeal to whatever they loved most in life. For you, I.."

Satine stomped her foot impetuously. "Yes? You what?"

"I sang to you. I made up a song. It caused you to rise, along with me taking your blood and feeding some of my own to you."

The thought both attracted and repelled Satine at the same instant. "Is that it?"

"That's it. Honest."

Satine scurried to the grave, feeling like nothing so much as a rat. Vanity be damned, she slid into the pit, muddying herself. This coffin had been made even more hastily than her own, and the lid didn't quite join at one end. Satine forced herself to remove the lid and look upon her beloved.

Christian looked so ill, his face sunken, no trace of a smile upon his face. In fact, the man looked as though he had never had occasion to smile in all his born days. There was none of the bloating characteristic of a drowning victim, which meant that he was most likely dead before he ever hit the water. That gave her an odd iota of comfort, as drowning was supposed to be a terrible way to die. Perhaps he did not suffer much.

"Christian.. I've come back to you, my love. I'm here. I don't know if this will work, but I have to try. If - when - you wake up, I can explain it all to you."

Dru nervously eyed the horizon, wary of the hour. Satine felt the creeping dread begin to rise within her bowels; there wasn't much time.

"Love was once an act,  
'Til you taught me how to feel it.  
Purpose always hidden,  
'Til you helped me to reveal it.  
I know now that you loved me;  
I hope you love me still -  
I need to bring you back to me;  
I'll try with all my will.  
I swore it and I meant it,  
To love you for all time.

I came back from the dead

Just to sing you subpar rhymes.."

Satine paused for a moment to caress Christian's face, willing it to give, dreaming of it being supple once more.

"I'll not forsake you, love.  
Now, please, awaken love,  
And come be mine  
For.. all.. time."

Satine found the spot where his pulse would be, wondering that her first taste of human blood would be from her dead lover. Would she like it? No matter; this was the means to an end. 

Christian tasted of apples, of whiskey and the sweet-smelling wood of hearthfires. If living blood tasted half as good as this, Satine feared her appetite would know no bounds.

"Oh, my love.. My love.."

Satine bit her own wrist, making two sets of punctures to ensure a decent volume. Christian's mouth was pried open, and she tilted his head back, watching the liquid drip down into his empty shell. Part of her wondered that she did not feel revulsion at handling a body, much less a body she had once loved. Was her new nature displacing such feelings?

Christian did not stir. She continued to hold him, while Spike conversed with Dru in the shelter of the grove. There was a complaint, followed by a sharp rebuke. Satine kissed Christian on the lips, tasting her own blood, recalling the fairy stories which had enraptured her as a child. Still, nothing.

"I will love you, until the end of time.  
Come what may..."

The sky would soon be growing light, and shortly after that, the funeral party would most likely return to fill in the grave. Satine was loathe to let Christian go; what would he want her to do?

Silence, silence within her and all around her. Satine wondered if the others had left her there, as Dru had threatened. In her arms, Christian became heavier, then let out a moan. Satine nearly dropped him in shock.

Words failed her for a moment, until Christian forced himself to open his eyes.

At first, he seemed elated, but then, confusion clouded his gaze. "Satine?"

"Yes, my love. It's me. I've come for you."

Christian looked around, spotting the duo in the grove. "Who are they?"

"They're.. friends. They healed me, Christian, and they taught me how to heal you, too. Darling, isn't it wonderful? Now we'll be together, always."

She embraced him, but Christian pulled back, staring at her closely. "You look.. You look different. Why does my mouth taste like blood?"

Satine was trying to help him to his feet. "Come with me. We must get you to.. bed, and I will explain everything when you wake up."

Spike and Dru stepped forward to the edge, nodding in consensus.

"Why should we sleep during the day? Satine? You're frightening me."

The sun was already beginning to tinge the sky; a few minutes more, and they'd all - 

"Please, Christian. I love you, and you love me, and that's all that matters now. We can go anywhere, travel the world together, and we'll never grow old, never get ill, never die - "

"No. That's not possible. I.. I watched you die. I watched them bury you, right there. The doctor made absolutely sure that you were.. no.."

Christian was stumbling to his feet, trying to find a toe-hold to propel himself out of the pit. 

"Christian?"

"I can't.. I can't believe this. What have you done?"

The hurt in his eyes was ten times greater than the hurt she'd seen there as Christian had prepared to leave her, and Moulin Rouge, forever.

"I've come back for you. I thought that's what you'd want, what - "

"And how are we to live? To travel from place to place, never staying long, never getting close to anyone else? What ARE we?"

She hung her head. "We are.. vampires. Just as those two are, Christian."

He laughed, a harsh bark of a sound. "The monsters who live on humans, who feed on blood. You've got to be joking."

Christian had pulled himself up, feeling surprisingly strong. Satine scrambled to be beside him.

"Please understand. It was the only way."

"I won't feed on blood."

"Then I will do it for us both. I will share what I can, so that you won't be responsible for any of it - "

He raked a hand through his hair, pacing. "You're asking me to do something impossible."

"Satine," Spike sounded as a warning.

"I know it's all a great shock, but if you come with us, I promise to help you understand."

His eyes narrowed. "Why so rushed? There's no one else here; what's the hurry?"

Satine's eyes pled with him. "The sun, my love; it will burn us to nothing. We have to leave now."

Christian turned towards the horizon. His shoulders slumped, then straightened and set, along with his resolve.

"I'm not going."

Satine almost fell over. "What? You can't stay here, Christian; you'll be destroyed."

He turned to face her one last time. "I can't go with you. I can't live - exist - the way that we would have to exist. All my life, I wanted to lift up beauty, truth and love. This is ugliness, Satine; this is falsehood, and this is hatred. I won't kill to survive. I won't have you do it for me."

"I gave up everything I wanted, everything I was, to be with you. I came back to you, hoping you would understand, hoping you could love me still."

Christian said only two words more. "Goodbye, Satine."

Spike and Dru had their hoods pulled tight, leaving only the merest slit of an opening by which to see. Satine stood, mute and utterly defeated. She knew that if she tried to touch Christian, he would push her away. He wanted to die, wanted to leave her forever rather than become what she had made him.

She should stay with him, die near him, their ashes mingling. She should punish herself for a lifetime of unpardonable sin and a moment of blasphemy. 

Spike stood his ground, and Dru stood with him. Despite their bickering and her nature being twice as cold as his, the two of them clung to one another. Satine had had a love like that, and now it was going to die. It was going to turn to nothing.

Satine felt a curious tingling along her scalp, and she replaced the hood to create shade. She would watch him die, the stubborn fool, just as he had watched her life slip away.

Christian had never seen such colors before. He forced himself to look, to watch as the first hint of sunrise crept along the edge of the graveyard towards him, its rays like fingers of death. The pain went to his very bones, bringing him to his knees. Satine was torn, wanting to throw off the cloak, yet wanting to go on.

Christian was kneeling, arms outstretched as if in supplication to an indifferent God. The flesh melted away, and Satine lunged forward to join it, hearing the snap of his bones as the structure of his form was consumed. It couldn't be real; it was simply too horrifying, too vivid - but it was. She had made her choice; she would not leave him again, nor let him leave her.

Strong arms gripped her around the waist, and a gruff voice uttered oaths and curses as Satine was pulled into the safety of the grove. Dru threw an extra layer of fabric over her, this one thicker and heavier than her cloak - a shroud.

The two of them dragged a howling Satine to a hastily-dug hole, held up partly by the roots of an ancient tree. 

It was cold and muddy, but it was sheltered enough if they kept their cloaks in place and their backs to the opening.

"Stupid girl," Dru spat, though she had not called Satine a whore. Stupid, perhaps, but also devoted.

Spike couldn't think of anything to say, other than "I'm sorry."

Satine hated Spike. She hated Dru, and all the others she had yet to meet. She hated Christian for what he had done. Above all, she hated herself.


	7. Chapter 7

Shortly after night had fallen, Satine arose. Spike had moved aboveground and was currently staring up at the sky, deep in thought. Dru was gone, presumably to feed.

No, Satine corrected herself: to kill.

"'Morning, sunshine," Spike said, compassion in his voice, along with mild apprehension.

The hunger was maddening, but Satine would ignore it for a little while longer. She sat beside him, her mentor, her maker. The hatred began to fill the emptiness, damping down the hunger.

"Why, Spike? Why me? Why did you rouse me, and why did you save me from the sun?"

He looked at her, looked at her with the same honesty and boldness Christian used to. "I told you. I saw something in you. You had more to give to the world, more to see.. I couldn't leave you to rot."

Satine considered this. "Christian used to look at me like I was different - special. He didn't care how many men I'd been with. He didn't care about the lies I'd told, the games I'd played, mostly for money, sometimes just for fun. He made me feel new."

Spike listened, waiting for her to go on.

"I was so shallow, so vain.. I cared nothing for love, nothing for anything lasting. I knew how hard life could be, and how brief, and I wanted to grab it and milk it for all I could while I had the chance."

"You can do most anything you want now. You've got nothing and no one to tie you down, Satine. And you've got all the time in the world."

Satine knew there must be people who would give absolutely anything to be young and beautiful forever. Most of the dying would give all they had for just one more day, or one more hour.. Was she ungrateful? Was she simply without conscience? 

"You say I have no one to tie me down. Does that mean you won't come after me if I try to leave?"

"I don't have the strength to keep you with me or to watch you all the time. I know that having Christian with you, with us, would've kept you near. I don't think I understood your reasons for living."

"I have no reasons for living. But I suppose, perhaps in a hundred years, or a thousand, I could find at least one reason."

Spike, still in his infancy so to speak, simply agreed with her. "Yes. I should hope so."

She was looking at him now, and he felt she was taking leave of him, memorizing him for future reference. "What was your reason? Were you afraid of death? Did you want to be famous? Were you in love?"

Spike knew there wasn't enough time to tell the whole spiel. "I was in love once, but it wasn't mutual. I met Dru, and she - well, when she made me, I fell in love with her."

He rarely spoke of the past, but what did it matter now, telling it to someone who was going to disappear on him?

"My mother was ill, just as you were. I made her a vampire, out of love, perhaps, and fear of her own death. It.. didn't end well. I had always wanted to be a great poet."

Satine seemed taken aback. "I didn't have you pegged as the writing type."

"Yeah, well."

Silence, but for the wind in the leaves. 

"Will you still go to Germany? Without me, I mean?"

He shrugged. "Probably. I'm not sure. Does it matter? If you ever want to find me, I expect you will. You're a stubborn mare."

Satine took it as a compliment, but not as flattery; the two were very different beasts.

"So you go on for the sake of poetry and for the sake of being with Dru. Anything else?"

Spike smiled. "Well, there was this fascinating redhead I met in Paris. I don't think I'm quite what she needs, though."

Satine seemed almost sad. "No. I don't think so either."

She didn't want to hate him. She didn't want to love him, either. Was there anything in between?

"I really am sorry," he added, so low that she scarcely believed anyone could speak that softly.

"I know. So am I."

Satine had the sense that, somehow, somewhere, someday, their paths would cross again. Perhaps that's why they didn't say any actual goodbyes, or perhaps it was Spike being considerate, not wanting to echo Christian's final words. Whatever the reason, Satine began to walk, then to run, and Spike sat motionless, becoming a dot in the landscape behind her.

She had no idea of where to go first, though she still had her looks and her feminine charms. There were always ways for a clever beauty to obtain what she needed, if she wasn't too proud about it. Perhaps she'd pursue a stage career in a new land, and perhaps not. 

Life had come full circle for her. In the beginning, there was Satine, getting by on her wits, relying only on herself. She had lost all else, but she still had who she was, which was whoever she chose to be.

Satine knew she could end it all, but chose to go on for the time being, to see what the world held in store for her.

Come what may.


End file.
